


As Long as the Forest Stands Tall, I’ll Be With You

by Listenerofshadows



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Body Horror, Gen, Human Sacrifice, In that One has Different Morals than Humans, Morally gray character, angst with happy ending, death mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:29:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24829867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Listenerofshadows/pseuds/Listenerofshadows
Summary: Humans come to Logan’s tree in all sorts of shapes and sizes. They ask for good crops, to find true love and to strike riches beyond their wildest dreams. Rarely, however, does a child stand beneath his tree, shivering and hiccuping in the bitter cold of winter
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 20
Kudos: 187





	As Long as the Forest Stands Tall, I’ll Be With You

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by an anon ask I received on tumblr awhile back. Hope y'all enjoy :)

A human child stands at the base of his tree, shivering and hiccuping in the bitter cold of winter. Indeed, the child’s stick arms hugs its frame in a poor attempt to stay warm. The child does not have a coat, and its threadbare stockings could hardly count as shoes. 

Logan finds himself mystified by the sight.

Humans came to his tree, in all sorts of shapes and sizes. They asked for good crops, to find true love and to strike riches beyond their wildest dreams. He granted them all, as long as they left an appropriate gift in its place. Things like books and knowledge he favored most of all, but he often did not turn away a cow or two if it was all they had to offer.

However a child? Rarely do children come seeking his help. Adolescents do not have the same worries as their often self-absorbed older counterparts. The few children that have come his way in decades past asked for things for others. The appearance of the child is enough to wake him fully from his winter rest.

“Hello.” He speaks, the wind carrying his message, through the dead tree branches and over the mounds of snow below. 

He forms at the base of his tree, in a shape familiar yet alien to a human’s eye. Centuries of practicing shapeshifting and he still has not perfected a form that does not send a human’s flight-or-fight’s reflexes into overdrive. Humans are innately good picking up on minuscule anomalies. If it is not the nose this time, then it is the ears he has gotten wrong. Too pointy, too many. He’s certain this time he has the right amount of body parts.

The child leaps in the air at his greeting. They turn to face him, trembling even more. He does not think it is from the cold.

“H-hello.” The child returns the greeting, dipping their head in reverence.

“What is your name, child?” He asks, “and what do you seek?”

The child makes a weird, muffled noise. Their head is still lowered, facing away from Logan’s searching gaze.

“My name is Virgil, I–I’ve come to seek an end to this harsh winter. That you–you bring about a prosperous out-pour of crops this Spring.” The child speaks, slow and stilted. Like words firmly pressed into their mouth by someone else and not a genuine request from the child himself.

A flash of anger passes through Logan. If humans think by sending out a sapling their chances will double, they are wrong. Logan values knowledge and wisdom, not emotional manipulation.

Logan hums in acknowledgement of Virgil’s words, “I see. And what shall you offer in payment?”

“Myself.”

“What?” Logan asks, for he is sure he misunderstood the child.

“I–it’s–Chief Habrok said as an orphan I’m not good for much else and that this is the highest honor I could bring to the village. So I offer myself as a sacrifice.” Virgil looks up at him, glistening tears half-frozen to his cheeks. So much of both fear and determination radiates from the small being. 

Logan’s ire has kindled to a raging forest-fire. This is worse than simply thinking Logan would be softer to a child’s pleas than an adult’s. Humans have bargained with him using livestock but one of their own young? A child that has lost so much already? It is revolting. All around them, the forest creaks, branches shifting not from the blizzard’s winds but of their own volition. Virgil flinches. 

He reaches down, softly cusping Virgil’s chin with a hand to direct the child’s attention towards himself.

“I will take you far away from here. Somewhere you’ll be safe and loved for as long as this tree stands tall. Okay?” 

“And my village–you’ll take care of them?” Virgil asks, confusion and doubt swirling around him. Much like the fierce snowfall sweeping through the forest.

Logan’s lips twitches. “You have my word that they’ll be taken care of.” 

“O-okay.” Virgil agrees, voice soft and small.

Logan drops his hand away, holding it out by his side. “Take my hand.”

Most would hesitate touching the hand of a spirit. They’d fear to be swept away, to never see the light of day again. The fear is very much present within the child. But again so is that firm, resolute determination. Virgil’s tiny hand shoots forward, latching onto Logan’s larger one with a startlingly strong grip. The wind picks up as the trees shake themselves from their foundations, their roots. They stretch, relishing the freedom of movement. 

“Close your eyes.” Logan murmurs. It’s his only warning before he calls forth to the forest. Logan is not this one tree like the humans believe. He is all of them. He is the whole forest. Each of them are perfectly formed clones connected by the same root system. 

He integrates Virgil’s soul into the system, careful to keep the child’s individuality intact. Somewhere in the bidding snowstorm, a young three-foot sapling sprouts bright green leaves much like the tree the two stand under. Certain of his work, he withdraws. He underestimates the drain of his powers, because he nearly collapses to the ground.

“You!” Virgil gasps, staring at Logan with bulging eyes. Logan looks at himself, no longer ambiguously human in appearance. Ah, yes. He’s quite forgotten how frightening his true form can be for humans. It is a shimmery indigo blue that is almost translucent. He has a multitude of eyes and just as many limbs. His hair is mossy, with bits of berries and flowers poking out of it. His eyes are a pupiless navy blue with whirling black rings.

“You look different as well,” Logan says, pointing out that the child’s form has taken on a glowing purple hue. Hmm, purple. Unusual color for a spirit. He still looks much like a human aside from the color. Give it enough time, however, and the child’s appearance will shift to reflect his newfound nature.

“Am I dead?” The child blurts out.

“Not in the slightest.” Logan reassures. The child does not look reassured despite this, “Now come, I know someone who will take good care of you.”

“B-but I thought, you’d–” The child stutters, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Oh no, I’m terrible with children. I promise that you will be quite safe with him.” Logan says, blinking out the dizzying nausea. He frowns in distaste. Maintaining a physical presence is annoying and draining. This is why he seldoms ventures out to the physical realm if he can help it. 

“Now shall we?” Logan asks, shouting over the blizzard at this point. Virgil huddles closer, burying his head into Logan’s robes, away from the roaring blizzard. Logan’s robes become wet with tears. Logan places a tentative hand on the child’s back. \

Then he pulls both of them away–their physical forms dissolving completely. They reappear in a dwelling in the depths of the astral realm. A calamity of voices greets them. A kind, older one overlaid by two energetic young ones. 

“–you two shouldn’t go off without permiss–”

“Logey, Logey!” The two young voices say in unison, as a set of green and red blurs come dashing towards Logan’s direction. The green one looks human enough except for their bottom half made up of swishing, swirling tentacles. The red one sports shimmery see-through wings and insectoid eyes. 

The child presses closer to Logan, his heart rate accelerating by a substantial amount. In response, Logan draws his limbs around to shield Virgil while holding one hand out in warning. He supposes new faces, especially inhuman ones, is frightening for the young child.

“Remus, Roman,” He says, breathing labored, “I ask we forgo the usual hug-tackle just this once.”

The saplings stop short, their faces flashing with confusion. One of them opens his mouth to protest, but a blue pair of hands with talon-like nails rest on each of their shoulders. 

“Logan, what’s going on?” Patton asks, “shouldn’t you be slumbering still?”

Logan doesn’t answer him at first. He glances down, craning his neck towards Virgil. “Would you like to meet my friend?” He whispers lowly. Virgil tightens his grip on Logan’s robes but nods. Satisfied, Logan draws his limbs back, revealing the child to Patton and the saplings. Twin gasps erupt from Remus and Roman.

“This is Virgil.” Logan informs them, “Virgil, this is Patton and his sons–”

“I’m Remus and this is Stinky!” Remus says, thrusting his thumb towards his brother.

“No I’m NOT! My name’s Roman!” Roman shrieks, his indignation however is quickly forgotten as he holds out a hand towards Virgil, “Hey you want to play knights and dragons? You and I can be the knights!”

“No fair! I want him to be a dragon with me!” Remus stomps his foot. Roman glares back and it seemed like the two were on the verge of a wrestling match when a tentative voice speaks up.

“Can I…can I be a dragon knight?” 

Remus and Roman stare at Virgil, who mostly hidden himself behind Logan at this point. Just a purple tuft of hair and eyes are visible.

“That’s…that’d be cool!” The twins say in unison. It’s times like then that Logan is reminded they were once one; Romulus. Once a highly respected river spirit until humans’ actions caused him to split and reform anew.

“Why don’t you three go along and play in the fort? Logan and I have some things to discuss.” Patton suggests, smiling brightly. Too bright. Logan withholds a shudder. 

Remus and Roman don’t protest, too excited at the prospect of a new playmate. Roman extends a hand towards Virgil, who looks up at Logan in askance. 

“Well, go on.” Logan raises an eyebrow, “it is alright.”

Virgil takes Roman’s hand and the three are gone in a blink of an eye. So has Patton’s smile. 

“Logan–what have you done?” 

“What do you mean?” Logan deflects, gritting his teeth. He extends a few limbs, looking for something to steady himself with. A warm pair of arms steady him, guiding him to a chair. Trust Patton to help even in the midst of being upset.

“Don’t. Not right now. Virgil–he is a part of you, I can sense it. But he isn’t–”

“The human village near my forest sent him as a sacrifice.”

Patton almost lets go of him, “You didn’t!”

“Of course not,” Logan rolls his eyes as he sits down in the chair with a grunt, “but I couldn’t send him back there or leave him completely alone to die. Humans can’t survive our realm, you know this. Integrating his soul as a part of me was the only option.”

“And the village?” 

“I’ve taken care to make sure they get what they justifiably deserve.” Logan answers, closing his eyes as he shares a vision with Patton. 

For a fleeting second, he sees flashes of the forest marching among the white visage of a raging blizzard. Flickers of drab buildings caught in gnarled branches being torn apart. A hundred voices screaming in terror. 

He opens his eyes and sees Patton again. The air spirit regards him with raised eyebrows and a small frown tugging at his lips. Not quite approval, nor disapproval.

“You plan to look after Virgil, then?” 

“No, of course not,” Logan says, “I thought that was rather obvious. You are good with saplings–I am not. Besides you are always saying how it’d be nice to have around a peer Roman’s and Remus’ age for their benefits.”

As to prove his point, several delighted laughter echoes from the children in the distance. Logan smirks, satisfied. He rises from his chair, desperate to return to his winter slumber, when Patton pushes him back into it. He is embarrassed that it was more of a gentle shove than anything else.

“Logan, you can’t just–you have a responsibility to Virgil! He is of you now, if you leave–it’ll be detrimental to both of you. Remember when Romul–when Remus and Roman first came into being, if separated it caused them–”

“This is different. I made sure to account for that,” Logan snaps, “Please Patton, could you at least watch over him until–”

Logan stops abruptly as a pain burrows into him. After centuries of existence, Logan has experienced pain, both great and minimal. But he was not prepared for this type of pain. The aching, spluttering kind. He could not breathe. It was like he was drowning and being burned alive at the same time. But it isn’t oxygen he needs. It’s something else. And every second he isn’t reunited with this something, the pain only continues to worsen. 

“Dad! Dad!”

“Something’s wrong–”

“I didn’t hit him!”

“–hurt–”

Something is deposited onto his lap. A shaking, quivering Virgil. Who Logan had promised would be safe here. Not writhing in pain. Logan gathers his limbs around the child tightly. A low rumble like trees creaking in the wind emanates from Logan. A lullaby that forest spirits know well. A human might find it frightening. It does not frighten Virgil. He can feel the child relaxing in his hold, cries quietening. Virgil is not human anymore, after all. The pain ebbs away but still Logan’s focus remains on Virgil.

“Are you alright now?” Logan asks.

Virgil nods, hesitating. “I’m sorry.”

Logan’s many eyes blink in confusion. He looks over to Patton and the twins, who he’d almost forgotten. Patton’s lips are pressed firmly together in a signature “I told you so” move. He is missing his usual gleam in his eyes, however. His gaze darts between Logan and Virgil before landing solidly on Logan. It doesn’t take him long to decipher what that means.

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Logan asks Virgil. 

“I did something bad–didn’t I? And you punished me so that’s why I–”

“No,” Logan cuts in, causing the child to jolt, “you did not do anything wrong. I should be apologizing to you. I inadvertently caused harm to you when I promised safety.”

“You mean it?” Virgil asks, his little eyes squinting up at Logan. There’s so much wariness and mistrust in those eyes. Too much for a child as young as Virgil.

“I do. I apologize for causing further harm to befall you. While it hadn’t been my intention, it still hurt you and so I take responsibility for it.” Logan tells him, bowing his head. It is a serious matter when spirits break a promise. He cannot blame the young sapling if he chooses to not to accept his apology. Especially after the hurt Virgil has already endured in his short lifespan. 

Logan is as old as the forest. He has seen many things and knows twice that of things in the world. Still, nothing quite prepares him for Virgil’s response.

“Okay,” The child says, and then, “promise you won’t leave me?”

He raises his head to look at Virgil. Doubt still dances in those little eyes, but so does hope. Logan wants to laugh. What a stubborn, brave thing to have. He’s still willing to trust Logan even though he’d broken his promise not even a hour after making it. It’s illogical, foolish yet heartwarming all the same.

“As long as the forest stands tall, I will be with you.” Logan promises, a much more serious oath than the first.

Then a small smile graces Virgil’s face and oh! Oh, for all his infinite wisdom, Logan does not know how to raise a sapling. How could he, when he had no mother tree? No one to nurture and nourish him as a young, vulnerable sapling? But he knows Virgil already has him wrapped around his roots. That upon sensing the child at his tree, his fate at once had been sealed.

For once not knowing something does not agitate him. In fact, as he wraps a limb over the child in a loose embrace, he thinks he does not mind it.


End file.
